


I'm not a fan

by promisingahurricane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chest Hair, Derek agrees, Idiots in Love, Innuendo, M/M, Nice Peter, Scott scolds Stiles, oblivious!Stiles, peter is a patient creature, peter's v-necks - Freeform, surprisingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:51:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promisingahurricane/pseuds/promisingahurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one likes Peter, but he's pack somehow, so Scott decides talk to Stiles before Peter goes insane (again). And, well, maybe someone does like Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not a fan

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaah....put this on tumblr first. I'm just gonna be lazy and copy my intro from there:  
> Have I mentioned before that my brain is an asshole? No? Well it is. I’m supposed to write a term paper and everytime I’m on it for longer than one hour some kind of fic idea jumps me. I’ve already written more words in my 'breaks' from the term paper than I would actually have to write FOR the term paper. It’s ridiculous. So…here. Have a Steter thing.

“Stiles, seriously… it’s not a secret that I don’t like Peter, but he’s the asshole who decided to bite me so I should be allowed not to like him. Not to mention he tried to break my will and…oh yeah. Kill me and-“

Stiles groaned heavily because his best friend didn’t ramble that often, but when he did, it usually meant nothing good. With himself, it was the other way around. If he got silent, there was probably something not so great about to be shared.

“Get to the point Scott.”

“Even for me, and me being decidedly not a big fan, it’s fucking painful to watch.”

He frowns and only glances at him, then back at the TV. What is painful about the fairly oddparents? They’re hilarious and they even chose it together to watch. So naturally, he makes a vague gesture and just as naturally, Scoot understands that he has no clue what he’s aiming for. He huffs as if Stiles is deliberately trying to be as thickheaded about this as he could be. He’s not. He just doesn’t know what his friend is getting at, because Peter? Not really someone they usually talk about.

Well, Peter has become better at being less of a creep, but he’s still a smarmy bastard who throws (mostly) subtle innuendos like beads on Mardi Gras. Stiles digs it, and he absolutely enjoys the intellectual snark and banter between them, since damn that man has a brain on him. Even if it has been deep fried twice. And one time by him. But still, as Scott elaborated so wonderfully, he doesn’t like him, so they don’t talk about him.

“What exactly?”, he asks cautiously, taking a sip of water from his bottle, which is placed conveniently on the table in front of him, before sinking back into Derek’s couch to pretend he’s still watching Cosmo and Wanda chasing after Timmy.

“Really, Stiles?”

The boy stares at him with the best ‘bitch please’-look he can manage, and frankly that’s not a very good one because he simply is an adorable little puppy with a crooked jaw, but all he can do is cock an eyebrow at him, since he seriously needs Scott to be a little more specific here.

When Scott reaches for the bag in his lap, Stiles hisses and slaps at his hand.

“My precioussss!!”

The other just rolls his eyes at his antics and points to the bag of Reese’s pieces.

“Peter gave you your favorite candy.”

Stiles shrugs. It was true, no point in denying it. Peter had walked in an hour ago and dropped it on his lap with something along the lines of _‘So you have something tasty to lick off your fingers while I go for a run’_ , delivered with his trademark smirk. Stiles had answered easily with his own cheeky smirk, barely glancing back at Peter as he purred _‘Guess I won’t be having trouble swallowing these down’_. Happily, he had dug into the sweets and had almost missed that Peter closed the door a little harder than usually.

“Yeah?”

Scott raises his hands in exasperation.

“He never gives anything to anyone?!”

“Yes he does”, Stiles answers, but his voice raises at the end, not quite so certain if it’s the truth, because he can’t distinctly remember Peter ever giving something to a pack member. But he must have at some point. Right?

He receives a snort in retaliation. Stiles scowls. So… probably not.

“What does it matter anyway?” He pops one into his mouth.

Scott looks like he wants to hit Stiles and so he side-eyes him carefully while continuing to munch on the next piece. Luckily his friend decides to just flop his head back with a heavy heavy groan.

“Stiles, I never thought I’d have to tell you, but you have to stop flirting back if you’re not interested!”

Stiles chokes on the chocolate and after coughing for a bit and downing half his water he turns to his friend with a glare. Because flirting? Really?

“I’m not!!”

“Then stop”, Scott answers calmly, his face serious and concerned.

He makes a frustrated noise and tries again, barely managing not to shout.

“I meant I’m not flirting. He’s not flirting. _We_ are not flirting.”

Because they’re not. They’re really not. Yeah sure, Peter’s hot and Stiles wouldn’t mind running his fingers through the hair on the broad chest that he gets to look at so frequently (thank god for deep v-necks and Peter’s giant ego), but whenever Peter is throwing an insinuation his way, he doesn’t fucking mean it to be anything more than casual snark.

“Yeah, sure. And what was that about licking and swallowing?”

Point proven.

“It’s just what we do. He makes a stupid innuendo, I do the same.”

“He has been trying to get into your pants since he raised from the dead”, Derek throws in, descending from the upper floor where he did god knows what. But hey, it’s his loft after all, even if they claim his couch every Saturday morning to watch stupid cartoons.

“No he hasn’t”, Stiles sighs, not really willing to argue against two people.

“Stop being so damn thickheaded. He gives you food, you’re the only one for whom he grabs a water when he gets one for himself, he vacates his seat for you when you can’t find one and he’s always right next to you in a fight”, the born wolf answers.

Huh.

He looks at his water bottle, which Peter had actually handed him, remembers how the man always conveniently decided to lean against the wall or sit on the stairs just as Stiles arrived and how he had been saved by Peter’s teeth more than once from serious injury.

Again, all true. Maybe there was…

No, nope, nope di nope. He’s not starting to get his hopes up for something that is just Peter’s version of friendship. Yeah, that’s what they are. Friends. Friends do that shit, right?

But he knows Scott and Derek wouldn’t get that, so he decides to deflect. He can totally do that.

“Are you okay Sourwolf? That were a lot of words at once. Need to sit down?”

Unfortunately, Derek seems to look right through his shenanigans today and just growls loudly.

“ _Stiles_.”

He scrunches up his nose before pinching its bridge and because he has no filter, he spits out the first stupid idea that crosses his mind.

“Fine fine. I’ll show you when he gets back.”

“Thanks Derek. He wouldn’t believe me”, Scott says triumphantly with a big grin.

“You were right. I don’t like him all that much either, but this is getting old”, Derek answers while settling on the second couch with his feet propped up on the small table.

Stiles rolls his eyes and sets his mind on proving that they are just friends and all is good. They’ll see. Nonetheless, his heart picks up a little when he sees both wolves glancing shortly at the door. Derek even cocks a provocative eyebrow at him, but Stiles just pointedly continues to stare at the TV while fiddling with his sweets.

He stays quiet as the door opens and silent steps wander into the kitchen. Scott nudges him painfully with an elbow and with a small growl Stiles swallows his current piece of chocolatey goodness.

“Hey Peter?”

“Hm?”

The deep and almost content rumble of Peter’s voice causes goosebumps to run down his back, but Stiles decides it’s probably rather from his fear of how the wolf will kill him when he proves that they are just friends. Slash his throat? Break his neck?

Again, he gets an elbow to his ribs. He glares at Scott, then raises his voice.

“Could you come over here for a sec?”

The older wolf sighs and Stiles can almost feel the eye roll as he steps up behind the couch.

“What do you want?”

Stiles twists a little and grins at him mischievously, effectively hiding his nervousness. Damn does he look good. The man is barely sweating, his broad chest almost sparkling with the few small beads pearling there and – shit. Maybe he is flirting. But the point is that the wolf isn’t, and that is easy to prove. Peter squints and is about to back away when Stiles grabs his shirt and yanks him down.

“Something to lick.”

He doesn’t know if it’s surprise that makes Peter bend down, but he can’t find himself to care as he presses his lips to the softness’ of Peter’s and licks at the seam of his mouth. The angle isn’t quite right, and the kiss is harsh and unforgiving, but he can’t help it as his heart races away in his chest.

He’s about to pull away and point out that Zombiewolf apparently did not enjoy that, because he didn’t join in (ouch), when the wolf rumbles out something between a growl and a groan and grabs a handful of his hair to yank his head back into a better angle.

“Fucking finally”, he snarls before diving down to claim his lips once more and Stiles melts against his lips with a small moan.

When they pull apart, Stiles stares up at him with wonder.

“Huh.”

Peter cocks an eyebrow and Stiles almost gets lost staring into the steel blue eyes. “What?”

“So you _did_ mean it.”

Derek and Scott groan loudly, but it doesn’t really matter, because Peter is pulling his shirt over his head in a fluid move and Stiles is too busy letting his eyes roam over the bare skin and stick to the soft sway of Peter’s hips. Suddenly, he is snapped out of his trance by a very familiar purring noise.

“I’m taking a shower. If you want to return to the swallowing, I have something you could lick.”

It’s a wonder Stiles doesn’t break something as he scrambles off the couch and hurries after Peter.


End file.
